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A Forbidden Friendship
This is the first book of my rewrite series, Chronicles of Berk. It's basically a rewrite of the first movie and book squished together... or something like that... Idk XP I know, I've started and left unfinished too many other fics, but I'm really liking this idea and will do my best to stick with it, though I want to do FfB also. ;P It will be very much like the first movie/book in the beginning, but bear with me, it will get much different later, as usual. :) If you think this idea is weird, that's okay, you don't have to read it, just click . ;) If you like my idea and want to read it, just keep going. If you would like to be notified when I update the story, sign up here. Well here goes. Hope you enjoy. :D Chapter 1 - "I Hit It!" Seven teenagers pushed and shoved each other as they all tried to be first out of the arena. They made enough noise for double their number. Now that school was out, they wanted to get back to their goofing off and doing fun idiotic things. This was not what you might call a normal school. Here, Gobber the Belch instructed the kids in swordfighting, insulting, yelling, dragon slaying, and all the other important things. This was a Viking school. And these were Viking kids... well, most of them, at least. There was Astrid Hofferson, a tough, athletic girl with blond bangs spilling out from under her helmet, a thick braid in the back, and icey blue eyes that looked as dangerous as her temper. She was at the top of the class, along with Snotlout, a muscular, obnoxious boy with red hair and a skull tattoo on each arm. Then there were Ruffnut and Tuffnut, the Thorston twins, with long, light blonde hair and seemingly little brains between the two of them. As usual, they were fighting. Also there was Fishlegs, a stocky kid with wavy blond hair, allergies to almost everything, and known as the bookworm. Clueless was a short but brutish and muscly boy with long brown bangs that fell down over his eyes, who didn't know his left hand from his right, or a spoon from a fork. Last, and probably least, for he was at the bottom of the class, was Hiccup. He was the least Vikingish Viking in the entire village. He was small, scawny as a twing, had freckles, green eyes, and was the worst at practically everything. The only Vikingish thing about him was his flame-red hair, which tended to stick straight up if he didn't have his helmet on. He was terrible at fighting, could hardly lift a battleaxe, and couldn't yell or burp nearly as loud as anyone else his age or younger. The only thing he was great at was drawing, writing, and reading, but the Vikings didn't care for those things. He didn't really realize it, but he was also extremely smart, something unusual in a Viking, but of course they didn't value intelligence much either. So he was not good at being a Viking at all, which was made worse by the fact that he was the only son and heir of Stoick the Vast, the Chief of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe. Stoick was admittedly quite disappointed with Hiccup, and the boy knew it. He just wished there was something he could do to make his father proud of him. Killing a dragon would be great, except that wasn't really his thing. At the moment though, Hiccup was deep in thought about something he had been making. He hoped he could put the finishing touches on it today, then maybe even try it out. He didn't watch where he was going and walked right into Astrid, who turned and glared at him. "Sorry." he mumbled, averting his eyes from the cold gaze. She ignored him most of the time, except when something like this happened, then she just gave him an annoyed look. In this case, it was very annoyed. Hiccup paused awkwardly, then seperated from the group and ran off. He skidded into the blacksmith shop, nearly tripping over his own foot, and threw on an old leather apron that was much too big for him. He wanted to work on his invention while waiting for Gobber to arrive. Gobber was the village blacksmith as well as the kids' teacher and Stoick's best friend, and Hiccup had been apprenticed to him for about five years now, actually about as long as he had been going to the school. There, it was done! He had finished it! He stepped back to view his creation. It was a bola launcher. All he had to do was load a bola in, aim, and pull the trigger, and it would shoot the weapon farther and with more accuracy then when hand-thrown. At least that was what he hoped. He was so distracted with thinking about what he could do with it, that he did not hear the footsteps, and jumped a little when a gruff voice behind him said, "Here early, Hiccup? Oh, ye finished yer thingummy. So what's it do?" The boy turned to see Gobber, a traditionally built Viking with one peg leg and one hook hand. "Yeah, I wanted to finish it up today..." explained Hiccup. "It shoots bolas, farther and more-" "Whatever." Gobber cut him off, not unkindly. "Pile a weapons here, need to be sharpened an' returned to their owners." He motioned to the stack of axes and swords as he went to stoke up the forge fire. Hiccup moved his launcher out of the way and went to work sharpening a sword. Gobber might be gruff and yell a bit too often, but he was not unkind, and Hiccup guessed his soft side wouldn't be too hard to get to when he wasn't teaching a class or hard at work in the shop. Hiccup was about halfway through the pile of weapons when he heard a commotion from the other side of the village. Stopping his work for a moment, he looked out the window and, in the dimming light, saw smoke rising from that direction. Dragon attack. That was what Gobber said too. "Dragon attack again. We just had one day before yesterday!" He set aside his tongs and stomped over to the pile of weapons. "Better get these finished up, they're gonna need 'em out there!" As he began sharpening an axe alongside Hiccup, a Viking came running up to the counter. "Got m'sword finished yet?" he called in. "Attack from lots o' different dragons; Nightmares, Gronckles, Nadders... down at the other end a town." Gobber nodded and looked through the pile of sharpened weapons. Hiccup glanced at the sword he had just finished. The name on it was Agnar. He knew this man was Agnar, so he handed the sword quickly to him. Agnar took it, grunted in thanks, and ran back to the battle scene, yelling the Hooligan warcry. Soon Vikings were swarming to the shop to grab their newly sharpened weapons, and Hiccup was kept busy handing them out, and watching as they ran off without so much as a thank you, yelling their heads off. Gobber threw his apron on a hook in the wall, screwing an axe attachment in place of his missing hand. "Keep it goin', lad, I'm goin' out ta help." He checked his wooden leg to make sure it was on firmly. "I'll be right back!" He ran out, shouting, "And don't leave th' shop!" A sigh escaped Hiccup as he got a momentary break. How he wished he could be out there, killing dragons and defending the village with all the other warriors. Then he could prove himself to his classmates, Gobber, Astrid, the whole village, and... his father. But his father was the one who had forbidden him from fighting. Stoick didn't think his son could do it, he thought he wouldn't last one second in battle. He was right. Hiccup couldn't even swordfight. But... Hiccup glanced at his creation, sitting in the corner... just waiting to be tested... he wouldn't have to fight close combat. He would shoot a dragon. That would prove he was capable of being a warrior! After a few more Vikings came and left, business slowed down. Hiccup saw no one coming, but he put the few remaining weapons out on the counter, in case they came while he was out. Out shooting a dragon. He didn't even bother taking off the leather apron, just grabbed his bola launcher, which had wheels on it, and dashed out of the shop, pulling the contraption behind him. After a few feet he found it was easier to push. He ran along, dodging people who yelled as he nearly knocked them over with the launcher. He avoided the fires, as he knew his father would most likely be there, and ran to a hill a little above the village, where no people ran around yelling. Panting, Hiccup set down the launcher and stuck a bola in it. He readied himself, hand near the trigger, and searched the darkening sky for something to shoot at. There were no dragons in his range. He sat and waited, tensed and ready to fire the bola, but nothing came. A minute later there was an eerie shrieking sound from somewhere, and a tower on the edge of the village exploded in blue fire. Against the flames' light, Hiccup saw a brief dark shadow zoom over the wreckage. He had never seen anything move so fast. "Night Fury!" someone screamed, raising shouts of fear. Hiccup felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The Night Fury was the most feared dragon in the Barbaric Archipelago, partly because no one knew what it looked like. It could never be seen, it always moved so fast, and only came out at night. All you heard was the shrieking sound, and something burst into blue flames, and once in a while a silhouette or shadow could be seen. This was what was happening right now. Hiccup suddenly felt very scared. What if the Night Fury was near him somewhere, and he was its next target? He clenched his teeth, but stayed, still determined to shoot something. As he watched the mostly dark sky, with a few stars out now, he saw the silhouette of a dragon, flying a ways from him, carrying something, likely a chicken or sheep it had snatched. Hiccup turned the launcher toward it, figuring he might as well try a shot at it. He clenched his jaw even harder, trying to steady himself, and pulled the trigger. The force of the weapon firing the bola knocked Hiccup backwards, but he looked up just in time to see the figure stop flying as the bola wrapped around it, and fall to the ground with a scream. Hiccup let out a gasp of astonishment and relief. Was that the sound of a Night Fury? It couldn't be! But he had hit it, whatever it was! He had finally hit something! He jumped to his feet and pumped his fists in the air, whooping. "I hit it! I got it! I shot a dragon!" He was so exited he failed to notice the Monstrous Nightmare sneaking up behind him, which was rather surprising because they have a tendency to stomp. Hiccup turned to see if anyone had seen his accomplishment, but his joy quickly turned to fear as he came face to face with the flaming, fanged head of a gigantic Monstrous Nightmare. He screamed, lost his balance, and fell backwards, rolling down the hill, the dragon's fire barely missing him and singing his boot slightly. Hiccup scrambled to his feet, covered in wet grass, and ran as fast as he could go back to the village. The terrified boy ran smack into a huge, bulky bearded figure carrying an axe, which barely missed his head as he was knocked to the ground. "Hiccup, what in Thor's name do ye think you're doin'?!" roared the surprised man. It was Stoick the Vast. "I-I-" gulped his son, but he got no further, as the dragon who had been chasing him came charging around the corner, its huge teeth showing in a sadistic grin. Stoick roughly shoved Hiccup around behind a thick post, which held up one of the big torches, and charged head on at the dragon yelling, in traditional Viking fashion. The Monstrous Nightmare stopped and hesitated in surprise at the apparently insane human attacking him. This pause was all Stoick needed. He launched himself at the Nightmare's horns, despite the flames covering it, and wrestled the surprised dragon's head to the ground. Hiccup, watching from around the post, looked away as his father dispatched the creature with his battleaxe. Stoick came around to face Hiccup, wiping his weapon on his massive fur cloak. He looked back as he heard cries of alarm coming from the rest of the dragons, and many of them began to fly away. Gobber came stumping up, breathing hard, his shirt smoking a little. "That musta been their leader, Cheif!" he said. "They're all retreatin'!" "Good." Stoick nodded distractedly to him, then turned back to Hiccup, who gulped, knowing what was coming. "Hiccup, what are ye doin' out here?!" Stoick fumed. "You nearly got yourself killed! I have told you many, many times, you are to stay in the shop during an attack. You have disobeyed me once again." He grabbed Hiccup by the back of his tunic, and started briskly through the village to his house. By this time, Vikings had gathered around, and were watching. Hiccup burned with embarressment, especially when he saw his classmates staring dissaprovingly, and heard Tuffnut say in what he thought was a whisper to his sister, "He's in trouble again..." Stoick finally dropped Hiccup when they were in their home, slamming the door first. The Hooligan Cheiftain sat thunderously in his chair by the fireplace, carved from a single huge log. He sighed heavily and put a hand to his face. "Hiccup, what am I going to do with you..." Hiccup looked at the floor, where he sat awkwardly. He looked up, saying hopefully, "But... but dad, I shot down a dragon... I think it was a Night Fury!" Stoick was tired, slightly burned, and had no idea how to deal with this at the moment. "Hiccup..." he took his head out of his hands and pointed to the stairs. "Go to your room. You are confined there until school tomorrow." Hiccup got to his feet. "But dad-" "Go!" Hiccup ran up the stairs, blinking back tears of frustration. Stoick sighed again when he was gone, then got himself a mug of beer. He didn't know what in Odin's name he was going to do with this boy. Even sending him to school hadn't seemed to makehim any better at being a Viking. His reports were terrible. And he thought apprenticing him to Gobber would prevent him from making trouble. Stoick groaned. His head was hurting. He decided he would deal wuith this later. Hiccup threw himself on his bed, burying his face in his pillow. His father hadn't even given him a chance to explain. And he didn't seem to beleive that Hiccup had shot a dragon. Well... he would prove he had. He rolled onto his back, wiping away the couple of tears that had escaped him, and pulled up his warm wool blanket. Tomorrow he would find that dragon, and bring it back, to prove that he could and had killed a dragon. Then his father would be proud of him. He closed his eyes, imagining his classmates' faces when they saw him with the horn or claw- or even better, wing- of the dragon he had slain. A while later, Stoick took a look in Hiccup's room, to see if he wanted supper, but the small teen was fast asleep. As usual, Stoick was now sorry he had been so hard on his son. But he shut the door and descended the stairs, making what he thought was little noise. Chapter 2 - Downed Dragon Very early the next morning, Hiccup woke up feeling so hungry his stomach hurt, as he hadn't eaten dinner the night before. He hadn't even taken time to undress. He hopped out of bed, and immediatly started shivering. He hopped downstairs, listening to make sure his father was still asleep. He was, and was snoring like a Thunderdrum with a bad cold. Hiccup grabbed a quick breakfast, wolfed it down, and was soon out the door. It was even colder outside, and Hiccup walked briskly, wrapping his arms around himself, clenching his jaw and trying to get all the warmth he could from his fur vest. He only had to find the fallen dragon, make sure it was dead, and grab a horn or something, and be back before school started. It shouldn't take him too long, unless it had fallen too far away, but he was pretty sure he saw it go down near Raven Point. He made his way through the woods in that direction, disturbing a few birds. He searched through the trees for over half an hour, but found no fallen dragon, or even signs of one. He stood in a spot of sunlight that shone through a gap in the branches, trying to warm himself. That dragon had to be here somewhere! It couldn't just have disappeared! He looked up at the sun. He had only about fifteen minutes left until school started, he needed to hurry up and find this thing. That was when he heard a sort of groan echo through the forest. A dragon groan. It seemed to come from ver nearby. Exited and hopeful again, Hiccup ran in the direction the sound came from. As he came over a hill, he saw something there that made his heart leap. It was the dragon! His heart felt as if it would beat itself right out of his chest. A jet black figure lay unmoving on the ground, the bola wrapped around it. It wasn't as big as a Nightmare, but it was sleek and appeared very fast. Hiccup stepped toward it. So this must be a Night Fury! He was the first Viking ever to see one, let alone kill one! It still didn't move, so he figured that groan he heard must have been its last one. He drew his knife. What should he take home? The wing was a bit large, so maybe the tail? Or what about its head? He knew if he cut anything off, there would be a good bit of blood, and he didn't even like cleaning fish much... he could bear it, he was used to it, but he still didn't like it much. And he couldn't drag the whole body back. He would just have to go for it. He shrugged mentally and stepped closer. Then his heart nearly stopped as he saw the eye. One green-yellow eye, very much alive, stared at him from the black-scaled head. Hiccup raised his knife, preparing to finish it off with a swift stab to the heart. But he couldn't help looking at the creature's eye, staring at him unwaveringly, and what he saw there made him hesitate. His arms dropped to his sides. "I... did this." He couldn't bring himself to kill this defenseless creature in cold blood. Maybe it would be better if he just let it go... He didn't know why he did it, but he suddenly found himself cutting the bola ropes that held the dragon's wings to its sides. As the last strand of rope snapped, the dragon jumped up with such suddenness Hiccup nearly screamed. It knocked him on his back, holding him down with one strong paw. Hiccup was sure he was about to die. How could I be so stupid... he thought, shutting his eyes tight as the black dragon opened its mouth. But no deadly fire came. Instead, it screamed in his face, which was probably more frightening. It roared long and loud, and when it finished, it snorted, then turned and ran, shrieking as it found it couldn't take off and fell. Hiccup stood very shakily, wiping sticky dragon saliva off his face. "Wh-wh-wha-" the terrified boy took two steps, and fainted. When he came around a minute or two later, he saw he did not have much more time at all until school. He sat up and glanced over where the dragon had gone. He heard growling and the sound of claws on stone and knew it had must have fallen into the cove there and been injured. He could look at it more later. He stood carefully, making sure he was steady enough, then ran for the village. He went straight to school, figuring his father would just think he had gotten up and gone to school early. He turned out to be a bit late anyway, and got looks from all the other teens. Exhausted, Bjirni lapped water from the small pond in the middle of the cove. He had been trying to get out of this stupid place for hours. The handsome young Night Fury looked up as he heard wings above him, and a green Monstrous Nightmare landed with a thud beside him. "Bjirni! You're alive!" Bjirni shook water from his face. "Of course I'm alive, Skaur, did you really think one little bola could kill me?" Skaur chuckled. "Well, it certainly kept you down for a while. Did you see who shot it? It was a skinny little human boy with arms like peices of string!" The Nightmare thought this was quite funny. Bjirni snorted. "Who else did we lose?" "Not too many." answered Skaur, stopping his laughter as he remembered who he was talking to. "But the cheiftain of the humans, with the big red beard, got Flaym." The black dragon sighed. "Flaym was a great right wing and a good friend. Any more news?" "The Queen sent me out to confirm if you were actually dead. She isn't too happy about losing one of her best generals. But I can see you're fine. Why didn't you just come back?" "I was sort of tangled in a bola." said Bjirni dryly. "I wasn't able to get it off, and lay there all night, until a boy, probably the one you mentioned, came and cut me free. Then I fell in here." "Let you go?" Skaur started in surprise. "Why would a human help you, especially if it is the one that shot you down?" "I don't know." said Bjirni. "He seemed very scared of me, and at first looked like he was going to finish me offwith his puny little knife, but... I don't know. It was the strangest thing thing." "What happened after that? Did you kill him?" "I... no... he got away." Bjirni said carelessly. "Hmm... Ready to head home now?" Skaur lifted his wings. Bjirni hesitated. "Well, I kind of... have this problem." He lifted his tail. The entire left fin was ripped off, likely by a tree branch when he had fallen. The wound was scabbed over now, but it still hurt the dragon. Skaur inspected it. "That's bad. That's really bad... How are you going to fly?" Bjirni shook his head. "I can't. I tried for hours. And I can't grow a new fin!" His voice rose in panic. "How will I ever fly again? Do you think a healer could help me?" "A healer could heal the wound, but not grow you another fin." Skaur could see the dissapointment in Bjirni's yellow-green eyes. "I'm sorry, Bjirni, but you're never going to fly again." He took off into the air. "Where are you going?" cried the Night Fury. "Are you going to tell the Queen that I'm wounded?" The Nightmare hovered. "Aye, I'm going to tell her Majesty. But she'll hear you're dead. You went down bravely in battle." "But- can't you at least get me help?!" said Bjirni. "The Queen has no use for a dragon who can't fly." called back Skaur as he flew away. "Face it, you're worthless to her, and as good as dead." He dissappeared, leaving a helpless, panicking young dragon clawing at the surrounding stones and roaring in frustration. Chapter 3 TBC Heather the Berserker 19:09, October 21, 2016 (UTC) Category:Heather's Stories Category:Fan-Fiction stories Category:Fanfiction Category:Chronicles of Berk